Cabs don’t get into accidents. You hail a bright yellow cab, on the side of snowy 8th Avenue the day before Christmas Eve, to get to places. Not to have your life shattered to pieces like the broken glass left out to drift days after the wreck.
“Liam, we have to go,” I say clipping in my left earring. Jen and Brooks are already waiting for us in the lobby. The curtain opens at eight and they won’t let us in past that.” I look up after hearing the metal hoop click in to see him trying to fix his bow tie even though he has it on backward.
We’re waiting for the elevator outside of his penthouse at The Driscoll that overlooks Central Park when I realize that the floors are so polished, I can see our reflection on the checkered tile. I feel his eyes land on me, and I instantly feel a smile forming on my face.
“Liv, what if we just don’t go? I’ll text B that we’re having some technical difficulties or something.” I laugh at his words and roll my eyes. “Technical difficulties? What with my dress zipper?” He looks at me with hungry eyes and I almost consider it.
“We can’t. Carter already texted me that he and his most recent conquest finally managed to get a cab and we’re meeting my parents for dinner after the show, remember?” I take another deep breath and avert my eyes away from him.
He reaches for my side, and I dodge him. “Unless this elevator gets stuck, we are going.” The bell dings. “Well, I would love to get stuck in this elevator with you any day,” he says wrapping my coat around my shoulders and kissing the top of my head.
The elevator stops on the third floor and a tall man wearing a sweater vest gets on. He’s on the phone. “They’re running late too; he just texted me that they had to walk. Apparently, there was a huge accident on 8th Avenue, a cab wrapped around a lamppost or something. A family out there is about to have the worst Christmas of their lives.”
Overhearing this man’s conversation, I feel like I can’t breathe. I reach for Liam’s hand struggling to bear the weight of my body in these heels. A cab wrapped around a lamp post. On 8th Avenue? It can’t be. The elevator jolts and Brooks flashes a devilish smile at us from the small couches in the middle of the lobby immediately making me feel more at ease. Eight million people in this city, 13,587 taxis. He’s fine.
“What took the engaged couple so long, huh? Maybe we should get Libby her own room next time she’s in town. Perks of you being rich enough to buy a place here,” he says making a show out of downing the neat Gibson martini he has in his hand before leaving it on the bar behind him.
“Oh, calm yourself, you know we’re saving ourselves for marriage.”I hear Liam say while going in for the handshake.
“Jen, looking gorgeous as always,” he then says to my best friend leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Not too shabby yourself, Liam. Libby got herself a good one. Just maybe learn how to tie your tie next time?” She chuckles and I can’t help joining in.
Jen has been my best friend since we were born. Our moms gave birth to us at the same time on Christmas days. Holland was born at 11:53, my twin brother Carter at 11:54, and I was born at 12:06. So technically she’s my brother’s twin because I have a different birthday than both. Ever since then, the three of us have been inseparable. We went through all of school together and all three stayed here in New York for college. I studied at Columbia, and they both went to NYU. Two girls and a boy against the world. Until Jen met Brooks at one of her chemistry labs when he broke a beaker and she had to apply pressure to his finger all the way to Bellevue Hospital. They’ve been together ever since. He then introduced us to his best friend Liam. So, here we are. The inseparable group of three guys, two girls, and a floater. Whichever girl my brother ties down for a week or two at a time.
“Ok, so just checked and traffic is horrible tonight but google maps says we’re only about an eight-minute walk away from the theater. Shall we?” Jen says buttoning up her cashmere sweater that I know does nothing to keep her warm during this New York winter.
“There’s been an accident,” I say without realizing I’d even spoken. Everyone looks over at me.
“What?” Brooks says clear confusion sprawled on his normally smooth face.
“The traffic was caused by an accident. A cab wrapped around a pole. I heard a man talking about it in the elevator.
“Oh, I see. Well okay then? Let’s go.” He says turning towards the door. But I can’t shake the thought, a family out there is about to have the worst Christmas of their lives.
We walk out into the cold New York air and Liam stops to talk to our doorman.
“Looking very pretty tonight, Ms. Leroux,” he says.
“Thank you, Pete. It’s nice to see you. Mind if I steal my man away from you though? We’re about to put our very expensive Broadway tickets to waste.” I reply with a smile.
“Of course, of course. Have a splendid night you four and tell Carter he owes me $20, the Knicks won tonight,” he finishes with a wink. I smile back and take Liam’s hand into my own. Tell Carter, ok I will tell him when I see him in eight minutes because I will see him in eight minutes. He’s fine. It’s Carter. He has to be.
We walk a couple of blocks down to Lexington Avenue and I check my phone for any new messages from the magazine. I moved to London last year and have been working as an editor there but since I’m moving back here after the wedding everything seems to be a disaster. There’s nothing from my assistant Mindy which should relieve my anxiety but I still feel a knot in my throat seeing that Carter hasn’t texted me back either — How far out are you guys?— My last message to him, was delivered 36 minutes ago.
We have twelve minutes to make it. I put my phone back in my pocket, but I instantly pull it back out. I call Carter. Ring. Ring. Ring. No answer. Again. Ring. Ring. Ring. “Hey this is Carter, I’m either watching a sports game or you know probably dead, but leave me a message and I’ll call you back.” I still remember when he first recorded that years ago. We all found it so funny. Why?
I let go of Liam’s hand and turn towards 8th Avenue. The opposite way to the theater.
“Babe, what’s up? Did you forget something?”
He looks at me with questioning eyes. I don’t answer. Why do the words I overheard the man speak keep replaying in my head? A family out there is about to have the worst Christmas of their lives.
“You spent your whole winter bonus on these tickets. C’mon.” He pulls me towards the bright lights illuminating the end of the dark street and I let him.
Jen is still staring at the scene, but Brooks takes her hand and we make our way across the street and all the way to the theater. I can’t seem to shake the accident, but Liam shows our tickets, gets us to coat check, and helps us find our way to 12B, 12C, 12D, and 12E all before the lights dim down. The beautiful music starts playing but all I can hear is a loud honk followed by a crash and the sound of metal scratching metal drumming in my ears. Shattered glass, blood on the pavement, my skin crawls on my body as I look over to the two cold and empty seats next to me.
